


Escaping Wastelands

by Singing_Cheshire



Series: Uprising [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: (If you squint realllyyyyyy hard), Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, F/M, Gen, I think i'm gonna put Galina in here, Imagine little kid Shay with a little Irish accent, Lucy and Cristina don't exist here, One-sided kadar/altair, She's fun, The character list is so long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singing_Cheshire/pseuds/Singing_Cheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hitman, a vengeful man, an actress, a helper, a pirate, an outlaw, a runaway, a gangster, an elegant killer.</p><p>All searching for the same thing.</p><p>A home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Many countries were pretty ruined by the nuclear bombs of the Mass World War. Many other countries were safe and thriving well, but the only ones open to people, who needed new homes, were Canada and New Zealand.

After the War, though, most countries developed a distrust of others. Walls were built. All forms of transportation were destroyed, except for ships.

Anyone able to battle their way through the wastelands of their home were almost guaranteed to die once they got to the wall. The few people able to escape immediately departed for Canada or New Zealand. One or the other.

The War was one hundred years ago. It was always hard to tell if it was still going on, but it didn't seem like it. It most likely wasn't.

No...it wasn't.

Umar Ibn-La'Ahad was a highly respected soldier. He proposed to take the wall down to allow families in. He was immediately executed. His son, Altaïr, ran to the abandoned Masyaf and took shelter there. It became his home.

Altaïr's mother had died during childbirth, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't lonely. He met two young boys who had fled to Masyaf in search of a place to stay, as well. Their names were Malik and Kadar.

When Altaïr became older, he became desperate to get money to support himself and the brothers. His friends. A man named Rashid ad-Din Sinan hired him to be a hitman.

Sure, killing people wasn't necessarily the best job, but it paid well. It was starting to get tiring, though. Get a target, locate the target, kill the target. It felt weird knowing that he had others' blood on his hands. Not that it was anything new.

But now, Altaïr planned.

They had to get out of this country. They were hungry and unhealthy. He knew it was dangerous, but they had to do it.

Altaïr stared at what he just wrote for a long few minutes, before groaning and rubbing his face with both hands. He hit the table with his fist. A few minutes later, he felt a shoulder brush against his. He glanced up with a sigh.

Kadar was glancing at what he wrote. Altaïr immediately threw his hands over it. "Kadar!" He snapped.

The younger one flinched. "I'm sorry, Altaïr," he mumbled, looking at him with wide blue eyes. He looked quite a bit like a puppy.

Altaïr sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's fine," he grumbled.

"You look tired, Altaïr," Malik's voice said at his other side. He turned to look at him, subconsciously shifting his arm that he covered his writing with.

"I am fine," Altaïr answered. "Just fine."

Kadar gasped. "You're planning to get over the wall?" He asked, shocked. Altaïr's gaze turned to the paper. He had moved his arm a bit, revealing the writing. He cursed under his breath.

Malik stared at him. "You cannot possibly be serious!"

Altaïr chewed the inside of his lip. "I'm serious, Malik. I have a plan."

He quickly grabbed the paper, rolling it into a ball before tossing it in the corner. "And what exactly is this plan?" Malik asked, his eyes narrowed.

"We find a stray soldier. Take him hostage. Force him to help us."

"You're crazy," Kadar squeaked. He immediately took a step back. "Oh, um, I am - uh...sorry."

"Kadar," Malik started.

His brother flinched. "Ah, yes, brother?"

"Go fetch water."

Kadar sighed, nodding. He turned and left, grumbling under his breath.

When Kadar was out of earshot, Malik immediately turned to Altaïr. "You can't be serious," he repeated. "Your plan...it's suicide."

It was suicide, wasn't it? Altaïr looked at him, sitting straighter. "My plan will work," he said confidently (almost arrogantly). "You needn't worry yourself, Malik."

"How can you be so sure it's going to work?" Malik challenged. "How can you be sure it won't backfire? Or the soldiers find out? You are truly an idiot, Altaïr. Have you even thought about what could happen? Have you even considered-"

"Yes, I have!" Altaïr snapped, getting to his feet. "I have considered everything. We will strip the soldier of his weapons and make sure that there is no possible way of others finding out. We will use those weapons if necessary."

Malik glared at him for a long time before he finally spoke. "How are we going to use those weapons, huh? We don't know how."

"I can fight."

Malik snorted. "Altaïr, I thi-"

"I. Can. Fight," he repeated. "My plan will work, Malik. It will."

They glared at each other for a long while, eyes narrowed. Sometimes, Altaïr wanted to punch that damn man in his face. But yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was always reminded of his childhood. Malik and Altaïr would climb Masyaf castle together, exchanging jokes and rambling about nothing. Kadar would sometimes climb, too, but he would always lag behind.

He remembered the day they had a climbing race. Kadar was practically screaming with joy when he reached the top, because he finally was faster than the other two. Then, there was that day Malik tried to stand on a galloping horse. He fell off and had back pain for a week. And that day Altaïr tried to swim and nearly drowned.

Kadar finally came in with a bucket of water. He looked between the two of them, confused. Altaïr noticed him, but didn't want to lose this 'staring contest' with Malik. Kadar cleared his throat, causing Malik to flinch and look at him. Altaïr smirked triumphantly. "Brother," Kadar started. "I got the water."

Malik blinked. "Oh...we actually have some already. I just wanted you to leave for a minute. I...didn't think you would listen to me."

Kadar stared at him for a long while, speechless. Finally, he cleared his throat, before splashing the bucket of water on his older brother. Malik gasped, making a face. "K-Kadar! That's cold!"

Kadar batted his eyelashes innocently. "Oops. I guess global warming hasn't worked it's magic on that water."

Altaïr snickered, earning a glare from Malik. "Maybe you should've splashed that water on Altaïr, Kadar. He doesn't know how to swim."

Altaïr made a face while Kadar laughed. "Now, now, Malik. No need to be so hostile," he taunted.

"Well," Kadar grinned. "He does have a point, big brother."

Malik rolled his eyes. "Altaïr could kill a pigeon with his words."

Altaïr squinted his golden eyes in disgust. "I hate pigeons."

"And I hate that you complain about pigeons when we climb."

"You hate everything."

Kadar doubled over laughing while Malik wrinkled his nose. Altaïr grinned.

"Let us not forget," Malik started. "That you probably came out of your mother's womb cursing like a sailor."

Kadar's laughter turned into wheezing. Altaïr made a face. "I don't curse that often."

"You curse more than me."

Kadar finally calmed himself down. "Actually, big brother, you curse at least twenty times a day."

Altaïr chuckled. Malik stared at Kadar. "I thought you were on my side!"

"Nope!"

"Traitor!"

"Am I?"

"Yes!"

Kadar rolled his eyes. "Why don't you go dry off, brother?"

Malik grinned. "Why don't we have a race climbing up the castle?"

Kadar nodded enthusiastically. The two brothers started to head outside before the younger one looked back, eyes twinkling. "Are you coming, Altaïr?"

Altaïr glanced at the ball of paper on the floor. Sighing, he nodded. "Yes."

"Then, hurry!"

The three of them hurried outside, and then began to climb. And the whole time, Kadar was shouting that he was going to win.


	2. Chapter 2

Ezio spared a few quick glances behind him to make sure no one had followed, before he entered his house. The first thing he noticed was the silence. Usually Claudia and Annetta were rambling about nothing, or they were having quiet conversations with his mother. He glanced around the empty house, concerned. "Claudia? Mother?" No response. "Annetta...?"

Almost instantly, Annetta's head poked out from underneath a long table cloth. "Oh, good! It _is_ you, Ezio!"

Ezio chuckled. "Who else would it be?"

"We weren't quite sure," Annetta admitted as Claudia lifted the tablecloth to look at her brother from underneath it. "We thought there was maybe possibly a chance that someone was imitating your voice. Until of course, you said my name. The soldiers wouldn't know that."

Annetta was about to say something else, but Claudia interrupted. "A patrol of brutes broke into the house. We thought they were just coming in to rest because, well, you know how soldiers and such are," Ezio nodded. His sister continued, "We hid under here anyway, but when they started searching around, they were talking about...father and...our brothers."

Ezio felt a pang of sadness when she said that. "So they were searching for you?"

Claudia nodded. "Luckily, though, they were too stupid to look here. So, we are safe. We just didn't want to come out yet. Just in case."

Ezio sighed, unconsciously reaching back and tugging at his ponytail. "I am worried," he admitted. "But, it looks like uncle Mario will come out to collect us soon. And..." He hesitated. "He is going to come with us to climb the wall."

At that, Claudia crawled out from underneath the table to stand, looking her brother up and down. Annetta followed, helping Maria up. Annetta looked at Ezio with wide eyes. "You're really going to do it? You're going to climb the wall?"

He nodded. "I am sorry, Annetta, but I cannot take you with us. The larger the group, the more dangerous."

The maid waved her hand in dismissal. "You don't need to worry. When your uncle comes to collect you, I am going to go live with my sister Paola. She lives in one of those 'noble' neighborhoods. I will be fine, Ezio."

He smiled. "Bene! I am glad. Do you need an escort to her home?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, Ezio. It's heavily guarded. They'll know me because I am related to Paola and they'll let me in. They don't know I work for you and I would rather they not find out.

Ezio nodded. "I understand, Annetta. Be safe on your journey."

Annetta smiled. "To you, as well. I will miss you, Auditore family."

He sighed sadly. Claudia managed a weak smile. "Perhaps in this lifetime the walls will be taken down and we will meet again," she mumbled. Ezio didn't miss the slight way her voice broke as she said that.

~~o~~

"Goodbye, Annetta," Claudia murmured, hugging her friend. Annetta waved and then turned to walk away, casting one last smile at them over her shoulder. Claudia and Ezio watched sadly as she walked, and didn't look away until she was completely out of sight.

Ezio looked at the house they were leaving. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, his eyes straining painfully as he fought back tears. He inhaled, breath shaky. "I will miss this old place, sister," he said quietly, his voice wavering.

"I will miss it, too," she responded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. He saw the wetness glistening on her cheeks and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. Claudia looked at him, smiling sadly.

Maria and Mario exited the house with the last few things for the journey to their uncle's home. Maria held Petruccio's box of feathers against her chest, the sadness clear on her face as well. The siblings waited a few more minutes, staring at all they were leaving. Memories flooded Ezio's mind, of leaping across rooftops with Federico, of collecting feathers for Petruccio, of his father Giovanni reprimanding him and then laughing it off. He remembered beating up Duccio for breaking Claudia's heart and running errands with his mother.

They were leaving it all behind.

"Are you two going to stand around there all day," his uncle started, "or are you going to get in the carriage?"

Claudia and Ezio didn't even respond. They reluctantly got in the carriage, sitting next to their mother. They stared at their (now former) home as the horses started trotting. Claudia buried her face in their mother's shoulder, and Ezio mouthed 'Goodbye' at the home he was raised in.

~~o~~

"Mario, when are we actually going to do this?" Ezio asked, impatience clear in his voice. They had been "perfecting the plan" for months. Months. He thought it was already perfect. Why wouldn't his uncle hurry up?

Mario sighed. "Ezio, we need to be careful. We need to make sure that we are definitely going to be travelling light. We need to make sure that your mother's climbing skills are perfected. Leonardo's, too. I'm working out the few flaws and then we will be good to go. Can you just be patient?"

Ezio was tired. "No, I'm not going to be patient!" He snapped.

His uncle narrowed his eyes. "I don't like your tone."

"Well, I'm sorry that I want to get out of this fucking country. I'm sorry that I want my mother and sister to have good lives. I'm-"

Mario raised a hand, silencing Ezio. "Not another word. You either help or you don't - and it will take even longer to figure out this plan, might I add. Your choice, Ezio. Your choice."

Ezio was silent for a while. He stared at his uncle, not quite sure how to respond. Finally, he sighed. "Fine," he grumbled. "We'll do it your way."

Mario grinned. "See, Ezio? It's not all that bad when you consider it, huh?"

Ezio shrugged. "Well, when we get out of here, I'm going to kill the men who took my father and brothers from me."

Mario shook his head in disapproval. "And in doing so, you will endanger your mother and sister's lives, will you not? Think, Ezio. Those men are going to come back and make you more miserable than you already are."

Ezio bristled. He opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't find the right words. He simply shook his head. "Fine, uncle. Fine."


	3. Chapter 3

"Connor!"

Connor flinched, nearly falling out of the tree he had climbed, perched on the highest branch he could reach. His brown eyes moved across the snowy ground, until they landed on an old man, his skin dark, hunched over with a cane in his hand. "Yes, Achilles?"

"What did I tell you about climbing trees?" The old man scolded. "You'll hurt yourself."

Connor shifted to get a better foothold. "I'll be fine."

He heard Achilles scoff. "You're getting a little old to be acting so immature. When you first met me, that was more acceptable."

Connor sighed, and reluctantly started climbing down the tree. When he was close enough to the ground, he dropped. The snow crunched loudly underneath his feet. He tried to fight back a shiver, but failed. "Alright, boy," Achilles grumbled. "Let's get you warm."

He followed Achilles as the old man hobbled towards the mansion. The homestead was full of energy and liveliness. When Connor first came here, it was so lonely, Achilles being the only person there. But, Connor became a helper, and in doing so, the Davenport homestead became a wonderful place, even more so since Corinne and Oliver's inn was built here.

It was a place of safety and calm. It really was beautiful. In the middle of the dreary, broken America, was a peaceful little area, home to people who needed one. Everyone knew everyone. People sang and danced and drank as if the world wasn't ultimately post-apocalyptic.

And it warmed Connor's heart. He left his village and his people behind, and he discovered more amazing friends. He never felt lonely with the knowledge that they were there, literally just right around the corner.

Connor waved at Myriam in greeting as she walked across the bridge with a dead cougar draped over her shoulder.

At last, the young man and Achilles reached the mansion. Connor slipped inside, rubbing his arms in an attempt to warm them. "Sit by the fire," Achilles commanded, sounding tired. "I will make you some tea."

"Thank you," Connor mumbled. He grabbed a book, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, wrapping a heavy blanket around his shoulders. It didn't take long until Achilles limped over, setting the mug in front of him.

Connor thanked him again, grabbing the mug and raising it to his lips, eyes completely focused on the page. After he had completely finished the tea, his eyelids started getting heavier. He hadn't realized how tired he was. Probably from staying up all night reading. It was only morning, but a nap really couldn't hurt.

So, he slipped the bookmark in the pages, before burying himself deeper under the blanket, rolling to his side. He let his eyes close, drifting into sleep.

~~o~~

Connor was woken up by something unusual. On the second floor, he could hear footsteps. That wouldn't usually be something to be worried about, but these footsteps were...different. They walked too fast to be Achilles'. They weren't nearly as uneven as his, either. They were much lighter, too.

Quietly, Connor went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. As he heard the footsteps start going down the staircase, he hid behind the wall of the room closest to it. As a person came slightly into view, he didn't even think. He lunged out of the room, grabbing the person and whirling them around, slamming their back into the wall as he pressed the blade against their throat.

The intruder was a woman. Her skin was darker, but still light compared to others'. Her eyes were hazel and her hair was a mess of braids pulled together in a ponytail. Her clothes were blue, and she wore a thick red belt.

"Who are you?" Connor demanded.

The woman looked calm, with a slight touch of amusement dancing around her features. "Aveline de Grandpré," she answered, her accent some kind of French? From New Orleans maybe?

"What are you doing here?"

Aveline's expression turned more serious. "I came to warn you about-" But Connor had already lowered the knife and was dragging her to the door. A disapproving noise rumbled in her throat. "Please listen-"

"I do not need a stranger breaking into my house to warn me about something," Connor snapped, opening the door and shoving her outside, into the cold. "When you could've easily just knocked."

Aveline inhaled sharply. "Oookay, bad judgement on my part, but I really need to warn-" and Connor slammed the door in her face.

~~o~~

Connor was pretty pissed after that. Who in their right mind would break into someone's house just to deliver a warning? It would be way easier to knock or have a messenger bring it. That woman was mad. He wasn't going to listen to her "warning" after she had done that.

What made him even angrier was that when he came out of the mansion, there was no sign of her. None. Not even a trace. He growled, kicking a stone.

"Connor?" Norris asked behind him. "Are you alright?"

Connor sighed, then nodded. "Yes, Norris, I am fine."

Norris nodded slowly, obviously unsure. "Oh, well...okay. Now, care to help me with these explosives?"

After Connor helped with whatever Norris was doing in the mines, he set out looking for that Aveline again. Maybe she was still visiting the homestead doing who-knows-what. He had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut, and the more he tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

Just find Aveline and get it over with, he told himself. After a friendly chat with Prudence and Warren, Connor continued his search. He stopped in his tracks when he heard the voice of a woman saying, "You should wear a heavier coat, you know."

He looked up, and there she was. Aveline sat on a tree branch, swinging her legs back and forth as she looked down at him. "Are you ready to hear what I have to say?" She asked. Connor sighed, nodding. Aveline smirked. "Merci, finally."

Connor grumbled under his breath, but Aveline didn't seem to hear him.

She cleared her throat. "Connor, my stepmother is planning to gather her...coworkers, and come here. I heard her talking," she paused for a minute. "They are going to burn down this homestead."

And that was all she needed to say for Connor to have a spasm before wildly running around the homestead with Aveline to alert everyone.

Connor sighed, hoping that what Aveline said wasn't true.


	4. Chapter 4

Aveline slipped into the de Grandpré mansion. She slumped against the front door, groaning as she dropped her umbrella. Her corset was ridiculously uncomfortable, her fancy dress was itchy, her curled, fluffed-up hair kept falling into her face, and her hat kept falling off her head. But, of course, she lived in a "noble" (seriously, how was it noble?) neighborhood, so she had to blend in.

She couldn't wait to get this dress off. She headed towards the staircase, so that she could talk to her father upstairs, who was sick in bed. As she passed the meeting room, the door slightly ajar, she heard the voice of her stepmother Madeleine, declaring to others in the room, "...we will burn it to the ground."

Aveline stopped, curious, and gently put her ear to the door, careful not to accidentally open it. "And, my friends," Madeleine was saying. "Davenport homestead will be no more."

Aveline raised an eyebrow, curiosity even stronger now. She heard a man in the room hesitantly say, "Madeleine, are you sure...? There are innocents living there."

"I must make Achilles pay, no matter who else loses their life in the process." Aveline's stomach flipped a few times. "In just two weeks, at dawn, we burn. It. Down. Understood?"

"Oui, Madeleine. Understood."

Aveline stared at the door for a bit with a disgusted look. She started when she heard footsteps approaching and quickly, quietly, jogged back to the front door, going back out into the cold. Her father would be okay for a while.

She froze in her tracks when she realized that she had zero idea where this "Davenport homestead" was. With a sigh, she walked up to the nearest soldier, who eyed her warily. She waved her hand, batting her eyelashes. "Monsieur, may I ask a question?"

The soldier's look changed from wary to intrigued. "Of course, Mademoiselle."

She smirked. "Do you know how I can get to Davenport homestead?"

The soldier shook his head. "Sorry, I don't know."

She reached out a hand to brush her fingertips against his shoulder. She held back a grin at the look on his face. Being an actress really paid off at times. Charming was almost too easy. "I am sure one of your friends has to know. Please, can you ask for them to write directions?"

He regarded her for a minute, before nodding. Within a few minutes, she had directions and had changed into her more comfortable outfit. Then, she mounted her horse and rode out of New Orleans.

~~o~~

After a few days, Aveline arrived at the homestead. She dismounted her horse, grabbing his reins as she started to walk him. She came across a bridge, and a man fishing from it. As she walked onto the bridge, she asked, "This is Davenport homestead, right?"

The man looked up at her, smiling. "It is. I suppose you'll want to talk with Connor?"

Wasn't it supposed to be Achilles? "Uh, Connor?"

He nodded. "Yes. He practically runs the homestead. Achilles owns the land, but if you want to stay, you'll have to ask Connor."

Aveline smiled. "Thank you. Where would I find Connor?"

The man pointed in the direction she was heading. "At the manor."

"Thank you," she repeated once more. Clicking her tongue, she walked her horse towards the manor, with no idea what she was about to get herself into.

~~o~~

A week had passed since Aveline went to warn Connor. Now, she stood on a tree platform, (is that even what it's called?) holding a musket, ready to unsheath her sword at any minute. The sun was only just now edging into the sky. The hunter Myriam, who stood next to her on the platform, had been out scouting every morning to watch for the soldiers. This morning, she came to them to tell them the troops were two miles away. Other people who lived at the homestead stood on other tree platforms, muskets in hand. Others were hiding, preparing to splash water on the fires before Connor gave the signal to shoot.

The rest were all ready to scream, as to make it look more realistic. Achilles had been informed, and stood in the manor with a few people next to him if soldiers were to break in.

It wasn't long before Aveline heard the crunching of marching feet on snow. Myriam raised her musket, keeping it eye level. Aveline followed her, not quite used to using guns. The others prepared their muskets as well, but Connor held his hand up, not giving the order yet. Soldiers marched in through the trees. They held torches, and a few carried crates of kindling. Well, obviously. You can't start a fire on snow, can you?

The leader of the group stopped, directing his men (and women). They dumped the kindling in piles. After a bit, they got the torches and started multiple fires. When their backs were turned, the people hiding slipped up to the kindling, pouring water on them, before sliding away stealthily. It seemed to be going pretty smoothly, but one of the soldiers turned just in time to see Maria, one of the younger girls on the homestead, putting out a fire. "You, there!" She cried, lifting her musket.

Maria froze, eyes wide. Connor's hand, that had been still up, came down in a chopping motion. Myriam fired the first shot, the bullet hitting the soldier's leg. The woman dropped her gun, crying out as she crumpled to the ground, gripping her leg. The others that had been moving along the trails began their staged screaming, pretending to look horrified at both the fire and the gunshot. Maria darted off, and then all the muskets were fired.

Aveline squeezed the trigger of her own gun, hitting an enemy in the shoulder, causing him to fall on his back. They had been ordered not to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary, as to not make the homestead and Achilles an even bigger target. Aveline cried out hoarsely as a bullet hit her right above her knee. The musket fell out of her hands as she fell backwards, off the platform.

She yelped loudly when her head hit the ground. Hazy blackness swam in front of her vision as she gasped for air, her head ringing. When it finally cleared, she forced herself to her feet. Aveline made a face at the pain in her leg, but noticed the soldiers marching past the battlefield. When she realized that they were about to light the manor itself on fire, she forced herself into a run. The intense pain rippling up her leg from the bullet wound was awful, but she needed to stop them.

Getting close enough, she unsheathed her sword, arcing it above her head and bringing it down on one's shoulder. He cried out and she shoved him out of the way, slicing the back of one of his allies who stood there, stunned. The third man, however, was smarter. He pulled out his own sword, countering her swing.

As they continued trying to attack each other, and both failing (except for when he cut her knee right where the bullet wound was), Aveline couldn't hold back a hiss of frustration. Finally, she pretended to swing for his leg, which he went to counter immediately, instead swiping her sword upwards to slash his shoulder. Surprising him, she then swiped at his legs, effectively knocking him over. All three men scrambled to run away as the commander screamed, "Retreat! Retreat!"

Aveline limped towards the doctor, struggling greatly. She did a head count, and was more than relieved that everybody was still there. Of course, nobody came away unharmed. Not a single body, soldier or otherwise, was on the ground. All there was was blood, blackened by the snow. No lives lost.

Aveline bit down on her knuckle while the doctor cut her wound further, to dig out the bullet without too much difficulty. After what felt like an eternity, he cleaned the wound and stitched it. She sat on a log to rest, closing her eyes and inhaling the cold winter air. She felt a hand on a shoulder and opened her eyes. Connor stood there, a hint of a smile on his face. She noticed the cut on his cheek that was stitched. It looked like it could scar. "Thank you," Connor said. "For warning us. And for fighting."

Aveline nodded. "Of course." Connor smiled, patting her shoulder before walking away to check on everyone else.

She sighed, and smiled at herself. Despite her stepmother's inevitable rage, she was proud of herself.

She had done the right thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Edward sighed as he turned the wheel of the Jackdaw. "Anne, you seein' any ships, yet?"

Anne shook her head. "Sorry, Edward. There's not a single one on the horizon. Maybe there's something going on."

He scoffed. "I thought we'd have some luck, but not even England has anything to provide."

Kidd spoke up behind him. "From what I've heard, London and the Blighters are havin' to deal with this new rebel gang," he pointed out. "Seems they're a strong lot."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Really? Most likely aren't going to get very far with that, then. Those Blighter bastards are far too tough. The other gangs learned that the hard way."

"Actually," Anne started, "this one is different than the others. Whitechapel and Southwark have already been wiped clean of all Blighters. The soldiers and their gang are none too pleased about it. They've got their work cut out for them."

Edward didn't respond for a bit, then let out a long whistle. "Impressive. What's this new gang called?"

"The Rooks, or something like that." Anne went silent for a minute, then added, "They'll most likely be able to free London, but the Blighters are just gonna keep coming back. And they won't be able to do the same for the whole country. It'd be a miracle if they did."

He nodded in agreement, shifting and biting his lip. "Adé, my hands are rather sore. You mind taking the helm for a while?" The quartermaster nodded, taking the wheel as Edward stepped to the side, rubbing his aching hands. They sailed in silence for a while before he spoke again. "Anne, Adé, are you sure you don't see any ships?"

Kidd chuckled. "You that bored, Kenway?"

Edward was about to protest, but decided not to. It was true, after all. "Yes, actually. Haven't had a good battle in a few weeks."

Adéwalé grinned. "Not to worry, Captain. I'm sure we'll find some smugglers who would be willing to lead us to a few man o' wars."

Edward laughed. "We got lucky that time, we did."

Kidd leaned over to Anne, saying in a hushed voice, "Very lucky. If it weren't for the smugglers, we'd've died thanks to Kenway." Anne giggled.

Edward spun around. "Kidd, you can't go placing the blame on me. Those smugglers were the ones who took us there, anyway."

"A reason you should never trust smugglers, Edward," Anne said, clearly amused. "And you know that. You just thought ye could take on three man o' wars because you think you're so tough."

Edward opened his mouth to defend himself, but Adéwalé cut in abruptly. "Sorry, Captain, but she's right." Kidd and Anne fell into a fit of laughter at his offended look.

"You wound me, Adé."

"I'm only being truthful, aren't I?"

"Well, that's-that's not...that's not the point!" He sputtered.

Kidd snorted. "Sure, it's not, Kenway."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't act like you don't know."

Edward simply scoffed. There was an even longer moment of silence before he sighed theatrically. "This is terribly boring."

The other three seemed to be thinking of something. Anne snapped her fingers. "I got it!"

"What?"

Anne grinned. "Find some smugglers and employ them to be our informants, and our own personal smugglers."

Edward looked at her curiously. "Informants for what?"

"To help us with those few people who get over the walls. Smugglers bring 'em to us. Those people give us information about the soldiers in their countr-"

"Anne, I'm sorry to interrupt," Edward apologized, "but how and why exactly?"

"Well, you enjoy pissing soldiers off, don't ye, Edward? Destroying their ships is certainly one way to go about it, but we could also help the people who get over the walls. Because, even if they manage to escape the soldiers on the inner part, there are more waiting on the other side. So, we send in smugglers. They're real good at a lot of things. They disguise themselves, get as many slivers of information they can from the soldiers, and help people getting on the other side of the wall. Then, they bring 'em to us, 'cause God knows smugglers couldn't handle lettin' people stay with 'em for a long amount of time."

Edward didn't talk for a long while after that. Finally, he took the helm back and said, "You're right, Anne."

Anne, who had been in deep conversation with Kidd since Edward didn't respond, blinked. "You think whiskey is better than rum, too?"

"Yes - I mean, no. I mean, we should do it."

"You mean go plunder chocolate?"

"Christ, the hell are you two even talking about? No, I mean that plan with the smugglers."

Anne nodded slowly. "Oh, that. Well, you answered me just in time, Edward. I can see a smuggler right up there."

Edward looked to where she was pointing. Seeing the beige-and-grey smuggler flag, he grinned. "Excellent. Up the speed, men!" He shouted to his crew.

Kidd smirked at Anne. "Don't smugglers carry crates of chocolate, too?" The redhead's eyes brightened.

~~o~~

Edward threw the smuggler down onto the wood of the Jackdaw. He pointed his gun at her face, eyes narrowed dangerously. The wounded woman looked up at him. She had put up quite a fight and her ship was surprisingly good for combat, since that's not necessarily what smugglers were known for. As she glared up at him, her light brown eyes held a confident glint. "State your name," he demanded as Kidd joined him, standing at his side.

The woman was silent, seeming to be considering whether to respond or not. But when Edward's finger shifted, threatening to pull the trigger, she hissed something under her breath and sighed. "Lia de Russo," she grumbled, her accent Italian.

"Alright, well, de Russo, we need your help."

"Help with what? You've already taken all my chocolate." She gestured with her head to where Anne was looking through some crates.

"Fancy chocolate it is, too," the Irishwoman commented.

"Information," Edward stated. "Also helping people who get over the walls."

Lia raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. I know who you are, Lia. You're practically queen of the smugglers. What I want you to do is divide you and your smugglers into multiple groups. Disguise yourselves as soldiers, get as much information as possible, then smuggle people who get over the wall to us."

Lia thought for a moment. She pulled herself to her feet, wincing at her wounds. She observed Edward for a moment, deciding. Finally, she nodded. "I never caught your name."

Edward grinned. "Captain Edward Kenway. So, I suppose we have an agreement, then?"

Lia smiled, extending her hand. "I look forward to doing business with you, Edward Kenway."


	6. Chapter 6

Shay shivered, adjusting his jacket. He flexed his fingers to keep them from falling asleep inside his gloves. "You alright?" Gist asked beside him.

Shay nodded. "Yeah. It's just that sailing in winter is never a good thing. Maybe we can find one of those underground smuggler towns near England," he paused, then added, "or America." He yawned and took one hand off the wheel to rub his eyes. And there, sailing on an endless stretch of water, running from a continuously delayed execution, fond memories popped up into his mind, from a time when life was so much easier.

~~o~~

_Shay looked up in surprise as Liam raced past him, a purple ribbon in his hand. Hope followed him, her ponytail undone and face contorted in rage. "Liam, give that back!" The five-year old shouted._

_Liam shook his head, moving as fast as his little legs could take him. Shay got to his feet and ran after the two. Once he caught up, he shoved Liam and pulled the ribbon from his hand. "No fair!" He whined._

_"Thanks, Shay!" Hope grinned, rushing forward to grab the fabric, but Shay turned on his heel and ran away. "Shay!"_

_He giggled, running as fast as he could. When he looked behind him, both children were chasing him. Hope looked angry, Liam looked vengeful. He looked in front of him again, narrowly avoiding colliding with a large dog. After a few minutes, the other two were gaining on him fast. He twisted around to swat Liam away. Hope tripped on her dress, landing on her face. Shay paused, mildly concerned. Unfortunately, that offered an opening._

_Before Shay even knew what was happening, Hope jumped to her feet and practically threw herself at him, right when Liam was doing the same exact thing. The impact sent them sprawling across the grass, their heads aching from the collision. For a moment, they just stayed there, all staring at nothing in particular, faces impassive. Finally, Hope shifted into a more comfortable position, reaching over to Shay and yanking her ribbon out of his hand._

_Then they started to laugh._

~~o~~

_Hope paced back and forth, the wooden floor creaking beneath her feet. Shay raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"_

_"No," Hope answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everything is just perfect."_

_Shay snorted. "Sure, and I'm Achilles."_

_"And why are you so concerned, Shay?" She snapped. "Don't stick your nose in someone's business."_

_He sniffed. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"_

_She glared at him. "Shay, Achilles is actually going to teach me to fight. Like Liam," she paused. "And he's going to teach me before you. See, Shay, that is exactly what happens when you're nosy." Unnecessary._

_"That's a bit below the belt, Hope." He mumbled._

_Seeing the hurt look on his face, Hope sighed, running a hand through her hair. She sat down next to him on the floor. "Sorry." She grumbled._

_"I still think Achilles overreacted about that!" Shay exclaimed._

_Hope made a face. "You read his_ private journal, _Shay. That's not right."_

_"Not right," Shay repeated, lip curling. "Sure."_

_"And then you called him a bad person," Hope added. After a moment, she asked, "Why?"_

_"He kills people," Shay snapped all of a sudden, making Hope flinch. "He's power hungry and greedy and he kills people he doesn't need to."_

_"I don't believe that."_

_"Of course you do. Because you're blind and you follow him like a loyal puppy." Looking at her wide eyes, her feelings obviously hurt, he bit his lip. "I'm sorry."_

_She sighed. They sat in silence for a while, until they heard Achilles calling Hope outside. Shay offered her a small smile. "Have fun learning."_

_Hope nodded. She started to get up, but hesitated. She leaned towards Shay, kissing his cheek, then got to her feet and left the room._

_Shay tried to pretend he wasn't blushing._

_~~o~~_

_Shay did not mean to kiss Liam._

_It just happened. He was standing on a low-hanging branch when it broke. He fell on to Liam and their lips met. Blushing like crazy and jumping to his feet, Hope and Liam just burst out laughing._

_Shay buried his face in his hands, mortified. It would be awkward to accidentally kiss anyone, but_ Liam? _He was his best friend. He felt like he completely ruined their friendship by making it awkward._

_Once the other two calmed down their laughter, Liam looked at Shay, then Hope, and grinned. "Y'know, Hope, he's a good kisser."_

_A high-pitched squeal came from Shay's throat. He whirled around and raced off, and Hope and Liam howled with laughter once more._

_~~o~~_

_"Wow, Shay, I've never seen you study so hard before."_

_"Glad you think it's entertaining, Liam."_

_Liam laughed. "You figuring out what flowers to get Hope?"_

_"Wha-no-that's-no!" Shay stammered, flustered. "No! Liam! I'm studying English."_

_Liam grinned. "Suuuuuuuuuuure you are."_

_"Liam!"_

_"Okay, okay, I'll take your word for it."_

_"You don't need to take my word for it. Just look at the book."_

_"Hmmm...yep, that's an English book."_

_"Exactly."_

_"Unless it's just a book on flowers disguised as an English book."_

_"Liam!"_

_Liam laughed. "Fine." He sat down on the bench next to Shay._ _Shay got a few good minutes of quiet studying in before Liam flopped across his lap. "I'm bored."_

_"And I'm trying to study."_

_Liam sighed. "But we should do something."_

_"You two could kiss," came Hope's voice. She grinned at Shay as she walked over. "You know, like how you did yesterday."_

_Shay squeaked. "That was an accident! I fell out of a tree!"_

_Liam chuckled. "You're blushing, Shay." Shay made some weird high-pitched noise of protest, pushing Liam off of his lap and off the bench._

_"Rude!" Hope said, giving Shay a stern look as Liam got to his feet. They glared at each other for a minute, then started laughing. "Now, Shay, give your best friend a kiss."_

_"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!"_

_"Or you can give Hope a kiss," Liam teased, grinning._

_"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"_

_Hope placed her hand over her heart, sniffling. "I'm wounded."_

_Liam shook his head at Shay with mock disappointment. "Now you've hurt her feelings." Shay stuck his tongue out. "Shay! How un-ladylike!"_

_"What? Ladylike? Please. I'll have you know, Liam, I am very ladylike."_

_They all stared at each other for a minute, then burst out laughing._

~~o~~

Shay smiled fondly. He missed his friends, more than he would ever admit. "Something on your mind?" Gist asked.

Shay shook his head. "Nothing in particular, Gist. Nothing in particular..."


	7. Chapter 7

Desmond ducked just in time to avoid a basketball.

Rebecca swore, snapping her fingers. "I was this close to hitting you this time, Des. But you made me miss again."

Shaun rolled his eyes. "We should be focusing on the more important task, you two. Rebecca, how's it going with plans on avoiding guards at the wall?"

"Don't worry, Shaun, I got it covered." She grinned. "Security has increased since the last three times we nearly got out, but it's nothing I can't handle. Which brings me to another problem..."

Desmond groaned. "Yeah. Dad. Please tell me you've got a plan to keep him from seeing us?"

"Oh, yeah, Desmond, don't you worry. I'm pulling out all the stops. Amazing stealth tactics, I've even tracked the guard shifts and where and when the spotlights hit. When your Dad was parading around the neighborhood, I checked out his schedule and wrote it all down. There's no way this plan can fail, Des."

"And I have an idea as well," Shaun announced.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I've decided that when we're on the other side of the wall, I'm going to write about every person we meet. I've even got a book with blank pages to write in. That way, we can keep a list of people who are safe to go to for help and others who don't seem so trustworthy, along with other important information."

Desmond blinked. "That's...actually a great idea, Shaun."

Shaun smirked. "I know."

Rebecca waved her hand in dismissal. "Enough chit-chat. Let's look over the plan to make sure it's flawless."

~~o~~

They put their plan into motion that night. Half an hour after William left, they pulled on black hoodies, slipping out the front door. It was still light, though the sun was beginning to set. The weather was nice, a cool breeze floating around. Neighborhood kids tossed around balls and the smell of barbecue was strong in the air. A couple strolled down the sidewalk, their dogs on leashes. A mother was patiently teaching her child how to ride a rusty old bike, and horses trotted through the street, snorting as they pulled along carriages.

Two doors down, a small family was celebrating the birthday of a boy who appeared to be the eldest child. Laughter and chatter rang through the air, happy and joyful. The three waited until they were out of the neighborhood, pulling on their hoods and breaking into a run. They spotted a lone carriage on the side of the dirt road, the horse tossing its head fitfully and nibbling the meager amount of grass in front of it.

They quickly hopped on to the front of the carriage. Rebecca offered to take the reins, but Shaun protested, snatching them out of her grip. She sighed theatrically as Shaun whipped the reins. The horse snorted and took off. Shaun eased the mare into a gallop.

It was almost an hour into the carriage ride when Desmond felt something tap his head, pulling him out of his thoughts abruptly. He jumped slightly, twisting his neck to see what it was. He sighed; naturally, Rebecca was casually sprawled across the roof of the carriage, lying flat on her stomach. Her arms were folded, propping her chin on them.

"Rebecca, what are you doing?"

Ignoring his question, she instead asked, "What's on your mind?"

Desmond took a minute to respond, trying to figure that out himself. He sighed. "I don't know if I should feel bad or happy that we're trying to escape again. I mean, Dad got us out of going to jail the last few times, but no matter what I do, I just...can't feel grateful. I know I should, though. I mean, he doesn't even like you two."

Rebecca hummed, picking at her fingernails and ignoring that last sentence. "Your dad's an asshole," she said simply. She turned her head to shout, "Fuck you!" at a group of soldiers who screamed at them, attempting to pursue the carriage (and failing miserably). It was harder to get to the wall the last few times, but as much as they could guess, most of the soldiers they had encountered before were now focusing solely on the wall.

After what felt like forever, Shaun pulled the carriage to an abrupt halt, earning an indignant whinny from the horse. The three of them slipped off the carriage. Desmond looked over the horse, then moved to free it from the carriage. It snorted gratefully, nuzzling Desmond's face, then galloped away. They pulled their light luggage (because you really can't go over the wall with heavy bags) out of the carriage.

The wall towered high up. There was an incredibly large horde of guards moving about. There was a single white square-shaped building, with a few spotlights around it.

The three crouched, then split up.

Focused on the plan, Desmond dove into a bush. He locked his eyes on the lone guard marching back and forth, then whistled. The guard turned around, a confused look in her eyes (because the rest of her face was covered by a mask). She cautiously looked around. Desmond sighed when she just shrugged and moved on. He whistled again. This time, she got where it was coming from. She took out her gun, moving towards the bush slowly.

When she was close enough, Desmond quickly pulled the gun from her hands, grabbing her throat and dragging her into the bush. He wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed just enough until she passed out. He removed the guard uniform, and was thankful that she was wearing a tanktop and shorts underneath. He pulled on the uniform, not bothering to remove any of the clothes he was already wearing.

Pulling the mask on his face, he slipped out of the bush. Shaun had figured out the perfect place to regroup, and now Desmond just needed to get there. He approached all the other guards, then made his way through the throng. A few of them raised their hands in greeting, but nobody gave him a second thought.

Desmond made it to the large front doors of the building. Instead, he circled around to a side door, narrowly avoiding a spotlight. Right when he was about to go in, there was a sharp, "You can't be back here!"

He stared at the guard with wide eyes, then launched himself at the other man, dragging him into the shadows and knocking him out silently. He then opened the single door, closing it quietly. He stood in an empty hall that only the janitor would ever use. The chatter of the guards, resting in between shifts, was loud in the other room.

He pulled off the guard uniform, pulling up the hood of the regular clothes. He spotted Rebecca and Shaun, who also were back in their regular clothes, with their "luggage" at their feet. and moved towards them. "Hey, Desmond," Rebecca greeted. "Ready?" Desmond nodded. They picked up the things they were taking over the wall. It was mainly just one bag each, the straps wrapped around their waists. Rebecca pointed at a ladder that lead to a hatch in the ceiling. "The stupid guards didn't even notice me taking the ladder from the other room. Now, let's go."

Shaun was the first to go up the ladder, pushing at the hatch and flinging it open before claiming through it. Rebecca and Desmond followed shortly after. On the roof of the building now, they crouched down, moving slowly.

When they made it to the edge of the roof that faced the Wall, Rebecca looked down and hummed. "A gap, but we'll be able to clear it," she whispered. "You first, Desmond."

Desmond nodded, inhaling deeply. He backed up a few steps, then ran forward, leaping off the roof. He almost closed his eyes, sighing in relief when he grabbed a good hold on the Wall. It was made of stone, so there were plenty of good handholds.

He waited until Shaun and Rebecca had good holds as well before he started climbing. It was long, tedious climb. They avoided all the spotlights, and the air had cooled down to the point where it was pretty much impossible to sweat. It took an hour and a half, maybe even two, until they finally reached the top.

Rebecca pulled herself up on the very top of the Wall, crying out in what was obviously relief. Shaun followed her. Desmond had fallen behind slightly, so they waited patiently until he got there. He grabbed the edge, pulling himself up with a little help from the other two.

Every muscle in his body ached, screaming in pain. The top of the Wall was _huge._ It was extremely wide, where it could fit maybe more than twenty people.

"We have to keep going," Shaun mumbled. But despite that, they stayed there for a minute, just staring at the dark sky.

"My legs hurt," Desmond groaned.

"All our legs hurt," Rebecca responded. "Let's get up. The stone's hurting my back. I've been watching the spotlights, though. I'll guide you guys which ways to go."

The other side of the Wall would be much easier to get through, because there was a thick line of bushes directly underneath, along with the fact that there were few guards, most of them were asleep, and the ones that were awake apparently didn't feel like waking the others up. Desmond rolled his eyes at their stupidity.

They started the descent. It was a considerably shorter amount of time than when they had climbed it, so that was nice. Finally, they dropped into the bushes. "Do you think those underground smuggler towns we've heard of are real?" Desmond asked.

"Let's look," Shaun suggested. It took an extremely long amount of time, but then they found a hole in the ground underneath one bush. A dim glow came from it. Oddly enough, there was a steep set of stairs. The three looked at each other, shrugged, then went down the stairs as it started to rain.

When they made it to the bottom of the stairs, yes. The underground smuggler towns _did_ exist.

Shaun sighed. "Stay here and catch a smuggler ship in the morning?"

Rebecca and Desmond exchanged a look, then nodded at Shaun. "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really didn't like writing this chapter. It was way harder to write than I thought it would be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm just gonna keep all the characters as wearing the same outfits they have in the games. Because, in all honesty, the thought of Altaïr with his hood down or in other clothes makes me uncomfortable. So, since his outfit isn't changing, then no one's outfits are changing.

"Writing in your diary?"

Evie jumped, knocking over her inkwell and spilling its contents across the page she had just written so carefully. She turned her head to scowl at her brother, who was leaning against the wall with that smug expression she's always hated. "I _was,_ until, thanks to you, it was thoroughly ruined."

Jacob just grinned. "Writing more about that necklace you're chasing after? The one that belongs to Lucy What's-her-face?"

"Lucy Thorne. And it's not just a necklace. It's a key out of here."

"It's a locket."

"With a key inside of it."

Jacob raised his eyebrows. "And how would you know that?"

Evie rubbed her temple, sighing. "Because I saw it. You see, Jacob, her locket is rather large, isn't it? Even so, the key inside of it is relatively small. It's silver and has an odd shape."

Jacob nodded. "Interesting. How, pray tell, are you going to get it?"

She grinned, her blue-green eyes lighting up. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, brother. I've got it handled."

~~o~~

Evie smiled a little bit at the young girl, who had her back turned to the woman. "I'll just have white tea with a pinch of lemon, please."

Clara whirled around. "Miss Frye! How are you?"

She shrugged. "Could be better. Is Mr. Green here? I need to speak with him."

Clara took a sip of apple cider from a very large mug. "No. He's out stealing books and collecting flowers." She gestured to a vase on the counter that was full of white tulips. "He brought me these."

Evie smiled. "Well, then, I suppose I'll wait until he's back. Oh, and Clara?"

"Yes, Miss Frye?"

"I'd still like my tea."

Clara smiled. "Will do."

Evie sat down at a table as she waited for her tea. Her eyes scanned the tavern, taking in every detail. It was an old, broken-down, abandoned building. Clara had moved her and her little network of urchins and pickpockets in. Evie could often hear the children speaking and giggling to each other in hushed voices upstairs as they quietly played their games. Everyone within the building spoke quietly as to keep any soldiers or Blighters passing by from knowing of the existence of the hideout.

The children acted as informants and thieves. A few would intercept messages and bring them back to give to either Jacob, Evie, or Henry. Although Jacob and Evie frequented the tavern, they lived in the hideout of the Rooks. Henry, however, did live in the tavern. He got along very well with the children, who loved him greatly.

Henry would go on little hunts throughout noble neighborhoods, stealing any books he could. He taught children to read and write if they didn't already know how. He was a kind man.

Evie smiled as the young girl placed a cup of tea on a saucer in front of her. "Enjoy your tea, Miss Frye."

Evie nodded. "Thank you, Clara." She picked up the cup, stifling a yawn (still tired after having just woken up twenty minutes ago). She lifted it to her lips, taking a large gulp. The tea was completely gone when the bell above the door jingled and Henry slipped inside, a book under one arm and a bunch of flowers in his hand.

Evie got to her feet. "Ah, Mr. Green, I've been looking for you."

Henry smiled at her. "Hello, Miss Frye. What do you need?"

"I have information and I need your help."

He cocked his head. "Help with what?"

"Stealing the locket from around Miss Thorne's neck."

Henry was silent for a minute, then nodded. "Are we going through with that plan you were taking about, then?" Evie nodded. Henry sighed deeply.

"I know exactly where Thorne is today. We have to go through with it now. And I mean _now._ "

It was at that moment that Jacob strolled in, saying to Clara, "I want the strongest stuff you got." Clara nodded, but kept her palms on the counter, watching Henry and Evie.

Evie snorted. "It's nine in the morning, Jacob. You should get coffee instead." She waited for Henry to set his things down, then the two turned and left the tavern. As soon as the door was closed, Jacob approached the counter.

"Hot chocolate, then, Mr. Frye?"

He nodded. "Make it extra sweet. And remember, don't tell Evie."

Clara smiled widely, winking at him. "As long as you keep giving me extra coin, I'll keep your secrets."

~~o~~

Evie, crouching low to the ground, began to sneak up behind the lone female Blighter. She flipped open her butterfly knife. Leaping to her feet and covering the woman's mouth with her hand, she drove the knife into the back of her neck. Blood poured down, the woman gurgling as she sank to her knees. Evie dragged the body into a bush. She closed the woman's eyes, quickly wiping the blood off her blade. Flipping it closed, she stripped the woman of her clothing.

Evie peeled off her own clothes, quickly putting on the Blighter uniform. She stuffed her clothes and knife into her satchel, slipping out of the bushes, and just in time. She placed the hat on her head right as another Blighter rounded the corner.

"Oi, woman. You're the one I'm taking to the carriage, right?"

Evie nodded. "Yes, that would be me."

The man squinted his eyes, observing her. "You know, you look familiar..." She stiffened nervously. With her hair completely covered by the hat and the fact that she wasn't as involved with the gangs as Jacob was, she had been hoping no one would recognize her as one of the leaders of the Rooks. To her relief, the man shook his head. "I'm just imagining things. C'mon, now."

It wasn't a long walk to the carriage. Evie certainly didn't feel nervous in Blighter-infested territory, but she did sigh in relief when she saw Henry on a rooftop.

The Blighter opened the door. "You're to protect Miss Thorne from inside, got it?"

She nodded, climbing in to the carriage and sitting right next to Lucy Thorne, who regarded her with distaste. They rode in silence for a while, Thorne fully invested in her book, when Evie decided to make her move. She grabbed the woman's head, smashing it into the side of the carriage without giving her a chance to react.

Grinning at Thorne's unconscious body, Evie unclasped the necklace, putting it in her satchel and taking out her knife. She opened the carriage door, swinging out and stabbing the driving Blighter in the neck. She threw his dead body on to the ground. Henry jumped down from where he had been following on the rooftops, immediately taking the reins.

Evie climbed on to the roof of the carriage. Other angry Blighters were already pursuing. One jumped from his carriage on to theirs, but Evie landed a quick punch to stun him before thrusting the blade through the bottom of his chin. Another one jumped on, but she kicked quickly, and the Blighter lost his footing, falling on to the stone beneath.

"Move it, Henry!" She commanded, harsher than she intended. Soon, the Blighters were far behind. Evie slid into the seat next to Henry. "Find a secluded area. Thorne has not yet shown any signs of deserving death, so I need to drop her somewhere before she regains consciousness. I would also like to change back into my own clothes."

Henry did as she asked. Then they were on the way back to the tavern, kicking dust over the waking Lucy Thorne as their new carriage took off.


End file.
